Wednesday, October 27, 2010

You may as well know this now: The word "No"

Hello, son. Why don't you take that flashlight out of your mouth for a minute and come listen to your old man. See, when daddy's first marriage ended, he got three things: the dog, the flat panel TV, and a mountain of debt that will prove to be his Caradhras.

Now, I'm not saying that to complain. But I have some attachment to the dog and the TV, and would like them to be around and in one piece for a while. You on the other hand seem to feel that the dog is falling-off-the-bone tender, just waiting to be pulled apart, and that the TV is so great that it needs to be slapped repeatedly during Ni Hao, Kailan. While I don't disapprove of your attitude to young Asian ladies, I need you to leave the TV, and the dog for that matter, alone sometimes.

This is where the word "No" comes in. For adults like me, it is used to preface words like "sex," "money" and "happiness." For little guys like you, it means that what you are doing in this instant is not a good thing to do. I grant that this is mind blowingly lame. Nobody likes being told what not to do, and your still weak grasp of cause and effect means that you can't process concepts like "the TV fall down make Ike-Ike go SPLAT" and "doggie bite face off." So I won't yell, even though in two seconds you will be screaming hysterically. I tried to take a video of it, but you put the camera's mic into clip, and came off sounding like a cross between a chimpanzee and a diesel truck. Not cool.

As with all things like this, distraction is the key. Please leave the TV alone, Ike. Look! I have mommy's birth control! SHINY! And good for making sure I don't have to explain this again any time soon! Wait. Take that out of your mouth. No. NO! DAMMIT NO!!!

Mine seem to only understand "no" when they're using it. My son, who just turned two, scolds me while shaking his finger. "No, no, Mommy!" Even if he finds what I'm doing only mildly objectionable, the serious look on his face is the same for all matters, and it's mine. I'm staring back at myself in toddler boy form.

My daughter's reaction to the word is often the same as how people treat yellow lights. Not only does she not stop what she's doing, but she does it with more enthusiasm. She gets as far as she can before she is made to stop.